


practice makes perfect

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anti-Fascism, Director Daisy, Drinking, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hotel Sex, Inhumans (Marvel), Insecurity, Older Man/Younger Woman, Politics, SHIELD, Soulmates, Talking, watchdogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 04:04:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14947229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: Season 5 AU ficlet. Daisy and Coulson return from the Framework to discover that the real world is also a nightmare. They're forced apart, but still find their way back together.





	practice makes perfect

"Just a little out of practice, I guess."

She watches him fumble with the hotel cocktail napkin in front of him, waiting for his drink to arrive.

Coulson's hands look different now. Softer. Or maybe she imagines it.

Although she doesn't think diplomacy has made Coulson soft. No, not at all.

In some ways, it's been the opposite. Harder on someone who likes to take an action instead of just talking.

"It's not your fault," she reminds him again, then takes her arms off the table as their drinks arrive, turns her face towards the shadows of the dark booth.

This is scotch, neat. Hers is whiskey.

"They're both the same thing," he tells her once more, as he lifts his glass and swirls the liquor in it.

"Then mine's the better version," she replies, and takes a long drink of hers, tossing it back unceremoniously then setting it back on the table.

"I used to be a pretty good profiler," he says with a nod, staring around the near-empty bar.

"You're still a good profiler," she tells him, as he turns to meet her eyes. "Did you ever think you'd end up in politics?"

He gives her a weary half-smile, looking her over, her suit, in particular, as she tilts her head at his circumspection.

"Did you ever think you'd want to be Director?" he asks her. "Still, it looks good on you."

"Ah, responsibility," she smiles, pursing her lips, and blinking slowly. "We never got around to running, did we?"

"Couldn't even if I tried," he follows, with a short laugh, lowering his eyes.

Gazing back at him this time, taking in his appearance, the neat suit, the bright eyes despite the weariness he's carrying. Like a version of the man she first met.

She could remind him, again, that he can stop doing this whenever he wants. He could retire instead of working to advance Inhuman protections in D.C.

She already knows the answer.

"You could always practice?" She shrugs and twists her glass between her fingers. "I could brush up on my diplomatic skills while we're at it."

"Yeah, I saw what you did on t.v. to that Watchdog the other night. It wasn't diplomatic at all. I loved every minute of it."

He smirks, then takes a long drink as she watches, fidgeting and then drinking her own.

"You're not supposed to be encouraging that," she tells him, hiding a shy, pleased smile.

"It's cathartic," he says with a shake of his head, motioning at the bartender for another round. "Sometimes I need to see a win."

She knows he's talking about himself again. That he's not going to let it go.

"So how did it go down? Did she tell you a story about her sad childhood and appeal to your inability to turn down people that need help?"

"No," he answers, looking only slightly offended. "The opposite. She came at me hard and I expected her to be lying or angling for something else."

"So she got her goon squad to rough you up," she tells him. "I know she didn't get what she wanted, or you'd be freaking out now."

"I _would_ be freaking out," he agrees, sliding the fresh drink towards him. "Besides, it has an encryption on it. They'll never break it, I'm sure."

He lifts his drink up and holds it between them until she touches her glass to his.

"Cheers to that," she says, and puts a hand on his shoulder for a moment, then lifting her fingers to brush against the wound on his cheekbone.

"You get that looked at?"

He doesn't exactly flinch, but he's not used to this. Trust. And the feeling that someone has your back.

It bothers her in a way that makes her feel responsible. He's not her agent, and he's not undercover. He's just a friend. More than a friend, really.

Someone trying to help.

"It's fine," he says, and she wants to believe that he freezes to the spot so that she won't pull away, even if it gets awkward.

"No it's not," she replies to him, drawing her thumb along the line of the cut. "You don't want me to worry. And you're hoping that I'll let it go. Listen and let you talk as much or as little as you want."

His eyebrows draw together and he does sit back now, resting his arm on the back of the booth.

"Okay," he answers after a moment, his eyes roving over her face, concentrating.

"You only came here because you felt guilty that something bad happened. That you can't protect me, even though you're the Director of SHIELD."

She grins a bit at that, then takes another drink. "I could always have my agents follow you."

"More agents?" he tells her, leaning forward to reach for his glass. "I mean, I'm out of practice, but not _that_ out of practice. Did you want me to know?"

"You would do the same thing."

"I'd be a little sneakier," he answers. "So, you _did_ want me to know."

"Why does it have to be that complicated?" she asks, leaning in closer to him. "Maybe I just wanted to watch you?"

That throws his guard off, she can see the shift in his expression, that maybe they're not just playing a spy game anymore.

"You just needed an excuse?" he asks, lowering his voice, leaning into her fingers touching his face. "Is this an excuse?"

"We both know I can be a liability to your work," she answers, swallowing, letting her hand fall to her lap.

"In the interest of not repeating my recent mistakes," he tells her. "Maybe I should just ask you what it is you want?"

"See, you're a fast learner," she says with a coy smile, then motions at the bartender as he walks by.

"I was thinking we could work on my diplomacy upstairs."

  
###

  
Coulson's hands do seem softer that she remembers, as though they're holding her even more carefully, so that might be it.

She's had to shed some things herself since becoming Director. The idea of wanting too much, and accepting too little.

And it feels like distance had become something literal between them, that they were both so focused on fighting in their own corners.

He sits on the end of the bed, tries to ask if he can kiss her first, and she appreciates that, it's why she's in this hotel room with him right now.

She kisses him first, just to make it clear. She shouldn't have stayed, she _wanted_ to.

Kissing him down to the mattress of the nice hotel, until his back is against the luxurious, fluffy comforter, as she hovers above him, letting himself be kissed.

Even if it was just for a night. Even if he had turned down her offer, knowing that they were in the same place together.

He would be somewhere nearby, and she would be there for him.

"Daisy," he closes his eyes for a moment, and raises his forehead to hers until they touch, holds her there for a second.

"You're not a liability to what I'm doing. I need you to believe that."

"What happened to you, is about getting to me," she replies, pressing her lips carefully against the cut on his cheek.

"They want to get to us," he reminds her, grasping her arms. "Trying to convince the world this won't work. We won't win."

"If they connect you to us, they'll throw you in a camp."

"They didn't make camps for people like me," he says, brushing his fingers along her hair, his jaw twitching. "They'd make something up if they wanted to get rid of me. I'm the one that should be more careful."

"You _should_ be more careful," she agrees, dropping to press the words against the open front of his shirt, her lips against his neck and collarbone.

"Daisy," he repeats, this time in the shape of a smile, his hands skimming along the suit over her shoulders and back.

"I love hearing you say my name," she says, putting her mouth against the shell of his ear, feeling him tremble underneath her, tensing up again like if he moves, it will all be over.

He asks her again if he can kiss her, and she says yes this time, and lets herself be kissed, realizing how long it's been since that has happened to her.

It takes her breath away, the idea of not having to work for this, after having to work so hard for everything.

She can feel tears stinging at the edges of her vision, as her mouth opens and he deepens the kiss, his fingers carefully wrapping around the nape of her neck until she finds herself kissing him back, guiding their bodies together.

And suddenly they are too hot, there are too many clothes between them, too many layers of other things that don't belong here now.

They barely try to undress each other, they want their bodies back together. She started out on top, but now they've met somewhere in the middle.

It slows down to slow, grasping movements, now that he goes even deeper inside of her, fit tightly so they both have to work in unison.

She can read all of his expressions now, his face wide-open to her. The emotions just at the surface and he feels like her mirror.

His hands are still soft, but they're so intentional, moving in between their bodies and making her hold on to him until she sees stars, and it's enough to pull him there with her.

She doesn't want to let go after, sitting on top of his thighs, her muscles less tense now. She was holding a lot in before. Carrying things.

"It's been so long," he tells her, nuzzling her neck with his damp face. "When doing something like this felt like.... everything."

"You are everything," she admits to him. Even though they know it's not entirely true. They're not the kind of people who get to have everything.

But it's what she feels.

She can see the knowing smile forming on his face. Deciding.

"I'm a little out of practice," he says, managing a lazy shrug. His face has a curious, flirty expression that she's missed so much.

"So this is something you want to work on?" she asks, biting her lip, pushing away thoughts of whether it's really possible or not.

He answers her with a kiss.

She can feel herself smiling again.


End file.
